It's Quixotic?
by CMemlovr
Summary: Snapshots of Will's thoughts about Mackenzie throughout the series. Each chapter will tag to the episodes sequentially.
1. We Just Decided To

"_Hi Will, it's good to see you."_

Three years. Three fucking years I managed to avoid any and all contact with her – and then Charlie goes out and hires her to by my EP? Jesus, ever since the hallucination she's been popping up everywhere! She's standing before me, looking somewhat like a deer caught in the headlights – a small, hopeful smile lighting her features. Pointing around the room, she indicates a new face – a Senior Producer (I think) that she brought with her. Poor sod, he won't know what's hit him when she tears his heart out, and leaves him bleeding. Fury rips through me, and it takes all I have to suppress the shudder it induces. But, for the briefest of seconds, a twinge of _something _also reverberates within me, and I am powerless to stop it from running rampant in my thoughts. I can't help but notice all that I had attempted to forget – all that I had missed - in the midst of hating the image of her with that son of a bitch. The moment passes, and I grind my teeth, anger claiming me once more.

"_Let's go in my office."_

"_It's time for Don Quixote!"_

I have no idea what the fuck she's talking about. I mean, she started (the second half of) her sermon with a quote from a musical, and attempted to pass it off as Don Miguel de Cervantes, for heaven's sake.

I half listen to her words – her passionate delivery is what has truly enthralled me – and realise that it has been too long since _anybody _in this office has been so excited, so impassioned about their job. About doing the news _right. _ Through all these years, I've been doing a show that increased my popularity – my affability. I've also been doing a show that makes me utterly miserable. Watching her becomes so involved, so excited, about producing a _good _news show reawakens the first sentiments of interest I felt for her all those years ago. I remember why I loved her and want to kick myself for bringing it up, because it is always closely followed by the memory of her admission of infidelity.

I pretend to think about her rousing speech – because the truth is, I already know that I want to do her show, and I _badly _want to do it – and say no, just because she's so much more fun to screw around with than Don.

"_Let's throw out the_ rundown."

**Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed reading this, and please tell me whether or not it's worth continuing :)  
><strong>**This is my first Newsroom fic, so please be gentle.  
><strong>**Thanks for reading! ^_^**


	2. News Night 2 0

"…_and then I need someone to sneak into Will's office, and delete the e-mail from his inbox. If it's password protected, I need you to, um, TAKE A BASEBALL BAT AND SMASH…"_

I walk steadily towards the Newsroom, my fists clenched tightly and my frame shaking in poorly suppressed rage. Hadn't we discussed this this morning? Had she misunderstood when I said that I didn't want _anybody_ to know? Had she misheard? Stepping into the Newsroom quietly, I hear Mac's voice piercing the relative quiet – clearly, she's just realised her incredible cock-up and is attempting to fix it by _panicking. _Typical Mac, actually.

I'd been in the elevator, on the way to my office after my negotiations uptown. Seeing her e-mail, I thought it was something urgent – something pertaining to the rundown. Scrolling through, I realised that there was no more to the message. She had just fucking aired our dirty laundry to the entire ACN building without a second thought, after I had _expressly _told her to not mention it. At all. To _anyone_!

Now she's standing before me, questioning Jim about my supposed whereabouts when I'm clearly standing right here and fucking furious.

"_We stood in my office this morning, and I said, under no circumstances do I want anyone here to know what happened, and you said yes, and yes again. And it really… it really seemed like you understood."_

"_I'm sorry, about everything. I'm just…so sorry."_

After this morning's debacle, and the chewing out she gave me after tonight's show, I can honestly see why she feels that she needs to apologise. Why she feels guilty. Truth be told, however, we both screwed up today. We both tried to fix our mistakes – tried to appease _someone _- and ended up making everything a helluva lot worse.

She's questioning me now, interrogating my motives for reporting the news. Asking if I'm still going to try to pander to my audience. To retain the friends I made in her absence. For a moment, I consider saying no. I consider appeasing her and lying, but I can't. I've never been able to lie to Mac in the same way she has never been able to lie to me. And there's the kicker – the sucker punch that ended our relationship. She couldn't lie to me – and now, it seems that she also couldn't lie to the rest of the company either. If I'm completely honest, the entire situation would probably be hilarious if I weren't embroiled in the nightmare. It could almost be comedic, if it weren't so horrifyingly humiliating.

This time, I can forgive her. I know that she has probably already forgiven me for my stunt tonight. I know that she also still feels incredibly guilty about…well, the contents of the e-mail. While I'm still pissed, I'm also aware that I've got another one-hundred and fifty-six weeks with her, so I may as well make it work and do the news right while I'm at it.

"_I'm in."_

**Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you did, please review! ^_^  
>Side Note: I am able to update frequently now because I'm on half-term break and an incorrigible procrastinator, but updates will probably become far more sporadic once I'm back at school. Sorry! <strong>


	3. The 112th Congress

"_Y'know what, Heff? There's a hooters a few blocks from here just filled with waitresses who are stocked like a game fishing pond for you to go…out like a fish!"_

Subtle, Mac. Really subtle. Then again, I'm not entirely sure what I expected of her, as subtlety has never exactly been her forte. I'm half-amused half-astounded that she would have the gall to make a reference to my latest parade of women in front of the staff. Amused, because she utterly lost her train of thought in the midst of insulting me – and the fact that that still happens to her (eloquent and well-spoken as she is) amuses me, and endears her to me. Astounded because I can't believe she would actually talk about this _in front of the staff._ Especially after the email.

As I said last night: _"_Adults should hold themselves accountable for their behaviour". Since Mac seems unable to see why I am still angry at her – why I still have difficulty trusting her – I am holding her accountable for her actions as an _adult. _The situation is different, the result the same. We might not have the same relationship we did a few weeks ago – rather, our relationship may not be quite so strained or terse – but the pain and remembrance of what happened three years ago still lingers, and for now, I'm doing my utmost to forget.

"_You lost the thread, right?"_

"_I'm sorry."_

She has a _boyfriend?! _After all the shit she gave me for my (admittedly numerous) dates, I wouldn't have expected her to pull that crap on me. Then again, maybe it's good that she's moved on – maybe that means that I can also force myself away from what happened three years ago. Maybe that means that I can finally allow those memories to fade to black. Maybe I can stop seeing the shithead – _Brian Brenner –_ with his hands all over her every time I close my fucking eyes.

When he walked in, I could see the panic in her eyes, I could see that she didn't want me to know he'd been there – almost as though she believed that in some way, I would see this as yet another betrayal. I want to scream – shout as loudly as I can possibly manage – but I don't, because I know deep down that this is how life is supposed to work. This is how relationships are supposed to work, and the relationship Mac and I have had (had, historically) is unhealthy and strange.

I can see her looking at me apprehensively, and I know that she's scared – that she's worried about how badly I'll react to the latest revelation. The truth is that I have no idea how I feel, let alone thinking about how she might feel at this present moment. I don't know how to express what's currently running through my mind; between Maggie's stern talking-to, and my instinct to apologize for my cold treatment of Mac, I'm not even sure of what the appropriate reaction to display _should _be.

"_Nope, this is exactly what was supposed to happen."_

**Hi guys! Thanks for reading this far, and if you liked it, please review! :)  
>I also forgot to do this at the end of last chapter, but I usually thank everybody who has already reviewed. So, to make up for it, I would like to thank: Shellin8, JustAnnW, Happy9450, Guest, fanficfanuk, Guest and Guest. You guys are the best! ^_^<br>**


	4. I'll Try to Fix You

"_I'm not keeping myself in jail anymore!"_

I can't help myself, even if it is New Year's Eve, I have to start a snark war with her. The very fact that she brought that insufferable dunderhead with her, _Wade, _is enough to drive me utterly ballistic. I mean _Jesus _she couldn't see fit to spare me this one night? It's already been a pretty shitty holiday season _thank you very much! _And what the fuck does she mean by "keeping herself in jail"? She had a fucking affair – if anything, I'm the one keeping myself in jail because I can't seem to get the image out of my mind. I should be the one locking her in jail.

Our "heated discussion" progresses to an out-and-out trade of sniping comments, and not for the first time, I feel that the reason I dislike her current _beau _so strongly is because he is ultimately not good enough for her. Does she deserve to be happy? – Debatable after what happened three years ago. Does Wade deserve to have her? Absolutely not. It's the second time I've met the man, and he's already pitching me? It doesn't really sound to me like the man is with Mackenzie to be _with Mackenzie. _

I just have no fucking idea why that means so much to me.

"_I will."_

"_Jesus Christ how much do you hate me?!"_

She's yelling at me, clearly under the impression that I allowed that particular clause into my contract because I hate her. I don't. I don't hate her. I can hear what she's saying, but I can't really understand what she's trying to tell me. Practically screaming at me by now, she's looking at me like I'm an absolute moron. And goddamn it, I know that she's only so furious with me because she cares, but I'll be damned if it doesn't strike up the same rage within me too. I can take care of myself! I don't _need _her to remind me that she moved on three-and-a-half fucking years ago, or that she's moved on again! In fact, I need nothing more from her than a guarantee that she's going to do her job.

And now she's saying that she won't even do that, if it pleases me. She would give up the job that she loves - a job that she places above and before everything else in her life - _for me._ I calm slightly – balk, even – at the thought of her leaving. It seems like the perfect solution, if the thought of it didn't leave me cold inside. But I say the damned words anyway. I tell her that we can discuss her future away from ACN if that would please _her. _

Before I even know what's happening, I'm reporting Gabi's shooting and possible death, and I haven't had a second to breathe and think about Mackenzie. But I know now that I _desperately_ want to.

"_It's not your fault…it's gonna be_ alright."

**Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed the update, and thanks for reading! Sorry for the late update, but if you liked it, please leave a review! ^_^  
><strong>**Thanks to Shellin8 for reviewing last chapter :D**


	5. Amen

_"Let me tell you something, Billy. I ever find out you paid a gossip columnist money to protect me, I will beat you senseless, and you know I can do it because I'm crafty."_

In that moment, I remember all the reasons I loved her to begin with. Not just because it's Valentine's day, and not just because she has somehow wormed her way back into my life. I remember the way she called me Billy all the time – the way it sounded on her lips when her voice was still husky with sleep, and the way it fell from her lips like an endearing spell each time she called my name (any time she called my name). But stronger than any of the memories with her that I held dear is the simple fact of who she is: a strong and bull-headed woman who is unwilling to be bullied. A cute woman, whose features belie her total fortitude and stubbornness in times of need. My Mackenzie.

The ridiculousness of what she has just said hits me, and I can't help the small internal chuckle at the thought of her attempting to beat _me _senseless. It's comical, endearing and completely Mackenzie. At this point in time, I don't have it in me to be upset with her. Especially since I found out that that _douchebag _Wade is out of the picture, and that she is still rather upset by his betrayal.

It's been a hard day. It's been a stressful day. But it's been one of those days that can't end half as badly as it began.

_"They changed their mind."_

_"Happy Valentine's Day."_

I see the line stretching through the Newsroom and into my office, and I can't help the smile that touches my face. It isn't about the money – it never was – it's the fact that she did this for me. She organised this _for me _because she wanted to show me that she still cared. That she still remembers the films that make me "cry like an onion".

I look back at her, standing with her arms folded, nervously almost. And I can't hold out any longer – can't help myself even after everything she's done to me. I fold her into my arms, and feel her nuzzling deeper into our embrace, gently shifting against me like she used to all those years ago. A feeling of wholeness flows through me, and I know deep down that if I could just let go - forgive her one infarction - then she would be the one for me.

For now, I just enjoy her embrace.

_**Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please leave a review! Thanks to Guest for reviewing last chapter, it means a lot to me ^_^**_


	6. Bullies

"_We've got to talk about what happened on the air! ... Were you outside your body?!"_

I sit on the edge of my bed, eyes heavy and stinging, but refusing to close for more than twenty minutes. Rubbing them gently, I run my hands down my unshaven face, my mind racing. Mac comes to mind – as she always does – but this time, her words from earlier today are ringing in my mind, playing like a broken record. I think about how I could feel her irritation with me radiating from her in palpable waves – how even her eyes betrayed her mood before her voice could. She wasn't just mad at me, she was almost betrayed, as though I had snipingly replied to the commenter simply to spite her. It wasn't the fact that I'd dealt with our guest so poorly (although that probably didn't help my case either), it was my tendency to fixate on people I perceive to be bullied that rattled her. Knowing my history more intimately than anyone else at the office, she knows why my commitment to our mission to civilise is so important – why I crusade against bullies when presented with them.

Slowly, thoughts of her this morning simply develop into _thoughts of her_. They linger in my mind unbidden, and my attempts at shutting them down are only half-hearted at best. Dwelling on how much better she's been looking recently compared to when she had just come back from Islamabad, I am unashamed of the route my thoughts take when my daydreams reach her long, toned legs.

Exhaustion runs through me again, and I feel a new ripple of fatigue hit my already-heavy lids. Maybe…?

I lie back down, shutting my eyes as I relax back into the mattress, images of Mac in mind. And I'm still awake.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"_No, we don't. We're just going to move on!"_

"_You were deceiving me while I was deceiving you, and you never had any intention of…what's this?"_

I tug open the Tiffany's box and hold it level with my navel. Mac's eyes widen perceptibly as she stares down, disbelievingly, at the ostentatious ring nestled in the turquoise box. For a brief moment, I feel a flash of guilt at showing her the ring – I planned this prank carefully once operation Involuntary Colonoscopy was underway, but I hadn't really thought of the consequences. I hadn't thought that she would believe me so readily, and look so incredibly _distraught _at the sight of the ring. The ring that meets the specifications of her ideal ring so perfectly. The ring that I would have bought for her for a proposal rather than a prank.

She barely whispers her admission of an affair, the affirmation of her sin that she is still praying penance for. For a moment, I feel sad – guilty, even – for dredging up our past as a _prank_. But then, I get the satisfaction of seeing her bounce back – cheeky comment at the ready – and smile grimly in response.

Our relationship is well and truly fucked.

_"Yeah."_

**Hey guys! Sorry for the tardy update, I promise that I'll try to be more punctual! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please leave a review! Thanks for reading! ^_^**


	7. 5 of 1

"_Oh my God! Will!"_

Wow. Mac looks hot. I don't think I've ever really noticed it, but when she's got her hair tied back in that cute little pigtail, yeah. She's mad at me though. I can tell from the way she's looking at me that she's more than mad – she's disappointed that I'm baked on what could be the most important news night of our careers. But damn, those cookies tasted great – better even than the falafel I stopped to get on my way in.

_Metabolic_

Oh right. Shit, I guess I messed that one up. But anyone can make a mistake without being baked, right? It just so happens that I am. Wasted, I mean. Mac's staring at me wide-eyed and horrified, and I can't seem to stop myself from spouting whatever random crap comes to mind. I am a medical marvel, though. Any other man would've been dead asleep by now. Yet here I am, still functional. I've got the melatolical – shit, _metabolic _– abilities of many men. If only Mac would believe me. Have I mentioned how good she looks tonight?

Wait. Serious news. Breathe, think. Okay.

"_Mackenzie! Listen to me. There is no way, no way, I'm not reporting this story…I'm not gonna let you down…Hey! We got Obama!"_

"_Look at your Blackberry."_

Well, there's nothing interesting there. It's just my phone, nothing new or different about it. Mac's giving me the pissed face though, so I'm probably doing something wrong with it. Ah yes, the buttons.

_Oh shit. _

I got an email twenty minutes ago saying that OBL is reportable. Now Mac's severely pissed – and so is Charlie, dammit. Well, it's not my fault that I – actually, it kind of is, so I'm just going to stop that thought there before I embarrass myself even further. Oh God, her lips are pursing – never a good sign – and her eyes have narrowed to slits as she reads the email to Charlie. This should be a happy occasion – can't we fast forward to the time when we find this funny?

"Are you kidding me?! Get on the air!" Dammit Charlie, there's no need to yell!

"We're going!"

Excitement floods my body as I anticipate the announcement – I don't really know what to say, or how to say it, but this – this is _good _news. No. It's not good news actually. It's fantastic news, and I get to share it with Mac. I get to share this news with the whole world, and I get to do it with Mac in my ear – pissed with me as she is – directing me and just, being there. I get to share this momentous occasion with my family.

"_Good Evening. From New York City, I'm Will McAvoy. ACN is now able to report and confirm that for the first time in almost three decades, the world has no reason to fear Osama Bin Laden…"_

**_Hey guys, sorry for the slow updates! If you enjoyed this chapter, please review, and thanks for reading! Also, thank you to everyone who has reviewed previously, your comments mean a lot to me!_**

**_I'll admit upfront that I enjoyed writing high!Will a little too much, so I hope I didn't overdo it... :) _**


	8. The Blackout Part I, Tragedy Porn

"_I'm not going to argue with you when Will can do it for me: he's never going to go for this – tell him."_

Damn it. She's right. Or at least, she would be right if it weren't for the massive ratings drop we experienced last week. Do I particularly want to cover the Casey Anthony story? Of course not! Do we have to? You bet your ass. We need the ratings, and goddamn it, we need the audience so that we can finally have that debate we've worked so hard to create. Surely she understands that? Judging by her face though, Mac has no intention of budging on this issue and she expects me to back her up. Under normal circumstances, I would be with her in heartbeat, but when we need the ratings this badly, I can't help but ignore her thoughts for the greater good. She's frowning at me now, and I can tell that I'm taking too long to deliberate for her liking.

God, I wish I didn't have to disappoint her _again._

"_Have marketing promo the shit out of Casey Anthony. Rename the show Casey Anthony Night with Casey Anthony right here on the Casey Anthony Network."_

"_A modest proposal: we could, ourselves, commit murder on our air. In your face, Nancy Grace!"_

Goddammit she's really starting to piss me off! Alright Mac, we get it, you don't like having to throw away your ethics and rules for a week – you don't like pandering to an audience that, like as not, _is _preternaturally stupid. Do you know what? I understand completely – in fact, I understand better than anyone else because I did this show, I fucking taped _this _show every night until she came home. Why, why does she have to be so unreasonable? It's one week – one fucking week where she can't take the moral high-ground and cover actual news. For heaven's sakes, does she actually think that I enjoy taping this garbage?

She's passionate and irate, and I completely understand her irritation, but I can't forgive her obstinacy this time because, _goddammit, we need the ratings. _Still, she's pretty hilarious when she gets ironic. Mac being Mac as she always was, I guess. Boy does this bring back aggravating memories.

At least she has the decency to look ashamed of her outburst now. Proud, but ashamed. Internally, I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry - the fact is, she is one hundred percent right, but I can't stand by her this time, not when the stakes are so high. She crosses her arms blithely, evidently pissed and making a show to ensure that everybody knows. Again, typical Mac – she always was a bit of a drama queen. I still loved her though. And I can still admire her work ethic and unwillingness to give up everything we've worked for – everything we've put into our lovechild, News Night, 2.0. I just wish she would stop being such a colossal pain in the ass.

"_I've been sitting here and I'm getting a little sick of this."_

_**Hey guys! Sorry (as usual) for the tardy update, but hopefully I'll be able to get more done now that I'm on holiday (until my exams start, ugh). In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and if you did please leave a review! Also, thanks to Alessandra and Justannw for your reviews last chapter, and to everyone else who has reviewed previously - it means so much to me that you took the time to leave a comment and I appreciate it immensely :)**_


	9. The Blackout Part II, Mock Debate

"_A miracle. A miracle happens. We become a team again. We all hate this, right? We hate what we're doing… I said, 'God, please show me a sign that I'm not doing a big thing badly' –and right that second, the power went out."_

Despite her attitude just hours ago, I can't help but be endeared by her enthusiasm and fickle belief in God and miracles. Yes, fickle. She is a devout atheist who prays only to the higher powers of Journalism, Murrow and Cronkite. Yet suddenly, she wholeheartedly believes that God sent her a sign from above that ACN – or, specifically, me – is not to broadcast anything to do with Anthony Weiner and Casey Anthony. Well, as much as I'd love to believe her and her passionate delivery, I don't buy it. A miracle? No. Most likely a freak accident and a coincidence. Fortunate, comedic, but ultimately meaningless.

She's pacing to and fro, waving her arms and preaching her views. For the first time this week, she's content and excited, and I feel a slight bit of shame at having made her so miserable. Even in the dark, I can see the glint in her eye – the slightly mischievous, devilish glint that tells me that she doesn't care if this fucks up our ratings, because we're going to work together (instead of against each other) again. And although I might not believe in her miracle theory, I do believe in her. And I desperately want an excuse to jump ship on talking about Weiner's, er, private business.

For the hell of it, I ask if anyone else is getting freaked out by Mac's behaviour – only half joking, of course. The truth is that a large part of me wants this as badly as she does – ratings be damned.

"_Leave God out of this and talk more about electricity."_

"_You're an idiot."_

So sue me, I can't put on these fucking trick pants. That doesn't give her the right to call me an idiot! Oh. She's not talking about the pants. Well, good.

Once again, she's riled up and feisty, and this time I can't blame her. We worked our asses off for that debate, so not getting it was a kick in the gut after we'd put ourselves down in the gutter. Mac's face has gone red, and I'm starting to feel concern for her mental health (and also slightly guilty that I've had Brian fucking Brenner shadowing her like some sort of spectre from her past all week). Tucking my shirt into my pants, I try to calm Mac down, to help her see the light of this situation – we still have all of our viewers. Of course, it's never been about the viewers for Mac – but now it is, and I've made it her problem. She cares about the viewers – is willing to get dirty with filth that can hardly be called news – to save my skin, my career. And for what? Out of a sense of misplaced guilt.

How could she possibly think that I would accept the debate format without her? We work well together – we are a team. She is my most trusted partner and producer, and so help me, I probably couldn't find my other pants leg without her. I'm not sure about this – I'm not sure about denying the debate or what I'm about to do now, but when am I ever sure about anything?

"_Remember your first day here? The BP spill? Remember when I said throw out the rundown?... Did you think that was…cool? Throw out the rundown."_

_**Hey guys! I tried updating yesterday, but for whatever reason the system wouldn't let me upload documents, so here it is today instead. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and if you did please leave a review! I would like to thank everybody who has reviewed previously, but also to say thanks to SueG5123 for reviewing the last chapter - it means a lot to me!**_


	10. The Greater Fool

"_That's good, you need to rest."_

I feel like shit. My head is sore and my mouth feels like it's full of cotton-wool. Mac's hovering over me protectively, and it would be sweet if I didn't know that look. The look that screams "_you moron!" _ at the same time as wanting to protect and care for me. I dislike this look on Mac because a) I'm not a moron, and b) she is so unpredictable when she gets like this. Actually, she's unpredictable in general, but when she's in this mood, there's no telling what she'll do. I'll be honest, I feel bad about doing this to her. For putting her through hell with Brian Brenner standing around the newsroom like an oaf, and then again when she found me in my apartment. I have been informed (very loudly and angrily) by Charlie (though I'm assuming his anger was more out of concern than actual rage) that Mackenzie, Lonnie and the Doorman of my building were the first to find me, splattered in my own blood and passed out on the floor of my bathroom, a tattered and bloody roll of toilet-paper still dripping above my head.

I'm broken from my reverie of misery and self-pity by Mac repeatedly whacking me on the head with Brenner's article. As if it hadn't already caused me enough pain. Raising my arms in defence, I attempt to quell her sudden rage with a verbal retort, but apparently she won't be swayed from her violent outburst. Helpless, I defend myself the best way I know how: with sarcasm.

"_I appreciate your patience!"_

"_Get back in bed!"_

Realisation strikes me like lightning – I am Nina's first source, and (more importantly) Mac didn't hear my confession that night. In front of me, Mac looks awestruck at the thought that her phone could possibly have been hacked. But it explains _everything. _Of course, she's now indignant and commanding me back into bed – though that's probably more to do with the fact that I've ripped out my IVs than her phone being hacked. Being wrapped up in the moment, I hardly feel the head-rush and black spots dancing at the edge of my vision – I barely register the nausea and dizziness. Of course, I really should pay more attention to that, or I might end up injuring myself further.

Striding into the newsroom, I feel Mac's hand steadying my arm and I feel reassured. The minute we enter the newsroom, her hand releases mine, and I know that it's because she's trying to show the staff that I can support myself – that I am strong enough to start work. Grinning stupidly as the staff erupts into cheers and claps, I can't help the chuckles that bubble through my lips. Beside me, Mac joins in with the rest of the staff, and I finally feel the atmosphere that Mac is always harping on about. I feel that we are a family, and I am ready to do _anything _to defend and protect them.

I _will _do anything in my power to keep our baby – mine and Mac's – on the air and with the staff that we have so painstakingly trained. They are my family.

"_Cut the_ film."

_**Hey guys! Thanks for your patience, and thank you so much for your kind reviews, follows and favourites, I really appreciate it! I'd especially like to thank Sueg5123, Taylor, Rachelhellehr16 and Guest for their kind reviews last chapter - it really means a lot to me that you took the time to review :)  
><strong>__**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please leave a review! Aside from that, this chapter marks the end of Season One and I am currently in the process of writing/editing the corresponding chapters to Season Two's episodes :)**_


	11. First Thing We Do

"_Why didn't you tell me?"_

I keep up the DJ act for as long as possible, hoping that she'll just get irritated and give up on our conversation. Relaxed as I am, I don't feel like having this particular talk just yet. Reclining further back, I press the phone into my ear and listen as she questions my motives for not telling her about being taken off the 9/11 broadcast. Truth be told, I'm disappointed that I won't be able to do this broadcast – I'm frustrated that our viewers are still so misinformed that they believe that I am un-American because I compared the Tea Party to the Taliban. It's almost as though everything Mac and I have done means nothing after all. But of course, that isn't completely true – we've got a group of highly-professional staffers in the place of our teenaged journalism class. We've raised our staffers well.

Despite all this, however, I'm mostly sad that I won't be able to complete the circle of my work. The fact is, whether Mac knows it or not, my first ever solo broadcast was 9/11, and I would have liked to pay tribute to the most tragic occurrence in the history of the U.S. Most of all, I wanted to make Mac proud – to work with her to bring this memorial broadcast to our viewers. Just like we did when we broke the news about Bin Laden. I wanted to do this with her.

"_It's the middle of the night."_

"_I can pay for my own drinks, pal o' mine! ... I left my purse up at the office…"_

Recalling that night now, I chuckle lightly under my breath. Only Mac would've had the nerve to make an empowering statement about her status as an individual and then ask me for money because she'd forgotten her purse. I remember thinking that, in that moment, I didn't care half as much about the 9/11 broadcast as I had before. And that was all because of Mac. She had strolled into Hang Chew's, sat beside me, and both consoled and scolded me simultaneously. Not only that, but she had also, _somehow_, managed to make our conversation about our relationship. I'm not sure how she does it, but her talent for redirecting conversations is admirable.

Stretching out my legs slightly, I brush against Maggie's combat boots, and smile tiredly at the loyalty she shows Mac. My head against the wall behind me, I continue to recall that night – and the subsequent nights in the whirlwind of Genoa – with surprising clarity considering the amount of alcohol I had begun to consume. More than anything else however, Mac's loyalty, ethics and unwavering support shine out to me and I wonder how I missed all that she had given me during those trying months. I sit outside the conference room that Ms. Halliday has adopted as her own office, waiting for Mac to finish her interview – waiting to be there for her as she has been for me.

"_I sometimes feel that I should just go home, but I'm dealing with a memory that never forgets…" _– 'You Better, You Better, You Bet', The Who.

_**Hey guys! Sorry for the lag in updates but things have been pretty hectic (exam season, ugh). This chapter marks the beginning of Season 2, and I sort of wanted to try something different by taking a quote from the song that plays at the end of the episode. Anyway, if you liked it, please leave a review, as I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed previously, your feedback means a lot to me! **_


	12. The Genoa Tip

"_Do you want to do this, or me?"_

I feel my heart sink as I break the news to Sloan and Elliot. Though it still stings somewhat that I got taken off the 9/11 broadcast, it's a damn-sight worse that I have to tell Sloan and Elliot with Mac present. Worse than painful, it's humiliating. Obviously I know why she made me promise to break it to them with her there – so that she can support them and help me guide them through the process – and I would probably be thankful for her presence if it weren't for the fact that I am utterly mortified. As I take the mantle and tell them that I've taken myself off the broadcast, I see a look of surprise cross Mac's features and am incredibly thankful that she doesn't question me in front of Elliot and Sloan. Mentioning my damnation – or rather, condemnation – on the house floor, Mac is quick to remind me that I am not alone and for that, I am grateful. Mac throws me a sideways look and I can feel her questions simmering beneath the surface, waiting for Sloan and Elliot to leave my office.

As they are leaving, she turns sharply on her heel to face me, indignant about the lie I just told to spare myself the humiliation. Of course, in her eyes, I told the lie to defend Charlie's reputation and not my own. That in itself is endearing, as she somehow always manages to think the best of me, even when my intentions are selfish. Trying to talk her down, I begin to grow frustrated with her – can't she see that I've been completely humiliated by this entire issue? I know that she wants me to remain proud – and believe me, pride has _never _been an issue for me – but I can't retain my dignity at the same time as telling my staff, my family, that I had to be taken off the broadcast like a petulant child. I just can't.

"_It's embarrassing!"_

"_Isn't it enough that _they_ love you? They'd walk into fire for you!"_

Dabbing at the splashes of _my _drink that Mackenzie unceremoniously dumped in my lap, I take the time to formulate a witty response…and come up with nothing. The fact is, she's right – as she has the annoying habit of being, unfortunately – and I should be happy with the fact that my team would be willing to do anything to protect me. I know it's true. I know it, but I can't help the insecurity that I feel when I have to rely on others. She's looking at me now in that pained way that she seems to reserve for me, and I would probably laugh if the situation weren't so serious, as it seems that that expression has been created solely for the purpose of pushing me. At the same time, seeing her this way – so earnest, open and vulnerable – dredges up all of my memories from our relationship together, and I'm not quite as efficient at tamping them down as I used to be. Especially not when the Elvis song that I love so much is playing in the background, like the theme music to our terrible romance.

She speaks to me slowly, as though I am a frightened animal that she is attempting to rescue. And maybe that isn't too far from the truth. Maybe I'm finally open to being rescued – at least where my work is concerned.

"_Tomorrow night's copy – it's a demand to see the memorandum."_

_**Hey guys! Sorry for the delay but exam season's been crazy. Luckily, I've just two weeks left, so I can get back to regular writing pretty soon :)  
><strong>**I'd like to thank Alessandra, Rachel2016 and SueG5123 for reviewing the last chapter, your feedback is much appreciated and means a lot to me ^_^ I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you did, please leave a review! :)**  
><em>


	13. Willie Pete

"_Number two: don't stare at guests who are wearing toupees!"_

Whilst it's not exactly the worst thing I've ever done on air, it is by far the funniest. I chuckle inwardly at Mac's irritation with me, but I can't help it. The fact is that that toupee was the sorriest excuse for hair I've ever seen, and I was mesmerised by its appearance – mesmerised and, as I mentioned, a little bored. The fact is, Mac was pretty quiet tonight during the broadcast and while I normally have her snide running commentary in my ear, tonight it was calmer – quieter. Except for the occasional reminder to _stop staring at the toupee, Will. _Maybe that's why I kept staring. So that she would be in my ear, scolding – doing something – but just so that I could hear her voice.

We leave the studio together and voicemail comes up. Suddenly, I know where the conversation is going to go and, as predicted, she goes there. The voicemail I left her when I was high after the OBL broadcast. The voicemail in which I declared my love for her as only an uninhibited man could do. What would Mac have done if she'd heard it that night? Undoubtedly she would have called back – or at the very least, talked about it – because that's Mac and she needs to talk things through to process them. Just like with Brian. She's good for me because we both tend to suppress and then explode much later yet we act as the other's catalyst frequently, so she has an almost _therapeutic _effect on me. She's beginning to nag me about the message now and I half want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Still, I'm enjoying our back-and-forth immensely – I've always enjoyed the way she manages to poke fun at me at the same time as offering actual advice.

To think that a few months ago I told her exactly how I feel – how I thought I felt, anyway – and now I can't even face the thought of telling her the first sentence: _you were great tonight._

"_You've asked me every day for two months…I don't remember the message!"_

"_Charlie said you're meeting with her."_

Mac is visibly frustrated – after repeatedly telling me that I have to trust the staff, someone leaked the fact that I wasn't sick during the 9/11 coverage. What's more, her jaw visibly clenches at the idea that I could be meeting Nina Howard – she is obviously irked by the idea but won't say anything for fear of turning this conversation into something about our relationship. To be entirely honest, I'm not sure about this meeting with her either, but I'm willing to give it a shot if it means that my name gets left out of the tabloids for once – bad enough that I had that media shitstorm back in January. I don't need that now, and after Brian's piece shortly afterwards, I don't think I can deal with it. I'm just too tired for bad press right now.

Our talk soon returns to the voicemail message but now I'm beginning to grow somewhat weary. Possibly because it's just hit me that Nina could actually tell Mac what the message said. That means that there's someone else – someone that Mac hasn't considered yet – who could tell her what I said that night. That thought alone makes me want to meet Nina even more, to beg her not to run this latest piece, but also to keep her wits about her if Mac asks about the tape.

As soon as Mac makes that _inane _comment, anger gnaws at the pit of my stomach. I'm not angry at her – I haven't been for a long time. I'm just…dealing with it.

"…_because sometimes, you're not as cute as you think you are."_

_**Hey guys! Sorry for the delay, but here it is: the (elusive) latest chapter! I hope you've enjoyed it and if you have, please leave a review or PM me as I love hearing from you :)  
>Thanks to guest and Anne for their reviews last chapter - they really mean a lot to me. Also many thanks to the people on Tumblr who have rebloggedliked this story - it means a great deal to me :)**_


	14. Unintended Consequences

"…_and here comes dinner."_

I hear her voice in my ear, as smug as Mac can be – which can actually be rather smug – informing me that easy prey has just landed in my lap. _Of course! _Tonight's the night that I get to interview the people who've been hanging around Zuccotti Park and making a racket about the "1%". It's not like I'm completely heartless, but I feel that I'd probably respect their movement more if they'd actually had some sort of, well, _movement. _So far they've made a ridiculous number of requests that all seem rather vague and ill researched – and Mac and I have been waiting for this stress-relief opportunity since she agreed to take on Ms. Wexler. I begin to screw with her, knowing that Mac is completely aware of what I'm doing and condones it because this woman is so _smug _about her cause. Meanwhile, though, there is a radio silence on Mac's end, and I can't help thinking that our relationship has been less than favourable recently. I'm not sure why – or rather, I can't be completely certain that it has nothing to do with my recent liaison with Nina Howard – but I would like to think that she is, perhaps, more tired these days due to whatever it is she's got cooking with that Terry guy and Neal.

I set Ms. Wexler up nicely with a small comment about leaders and she takes the bait hook, line and sinker. I stifle an internal chuckle and return to the matter at hand: slaughtering her on live television. Of course, I probably take more pleasure out of this than I should – most likely because I'm still frustrated by the lack of communication from Mac and the current state of _whatever it is _with Nina that has yet to be defined. I'm frustrated – I'm a big enough man to admit it – so I take it out on Shelly here who is the perfect verbal punching bag to ease my irritation at life in general. I can't help the way I feel – especially knowing that Nina knows what the voicemail said but is still willing (God knows why) to try _this _with me. At the same time, I'm still working through what I feel about Mac and can't help feeling well…unfaithful to Nina because of my uncertainty. I'm fucking frustrated and Shelly is the perfect target.

I've become what I most despise because I can't get a handle on my own life: I've become a bully.

"_Is that a good idea?"_

"_Let's talk for a second about…unintended consequences."_

I think for a minute that this conversation's going to be about the voicemail again – the way she hedges her request to speak as though she's never spoken her mind to me before shows me that she's nervous; unwilling to ask me whatever it is she's been put up to. Instead, our conversation veers towards the project she's been working on with Dantana (they think I don't know…I do.) and how I need to apologize to the Wexler lady for being smug with her. Bullshit. I was not smug. I was coldly dismissive as a courtesy so that she wouldn't have to justify her movement's complete lack of organization, goals and actual demands. Interestingly though, Mac lingers on the idea of my smugness, sarcastically pointing out that she's never had that from me before. Now that I will admit to – I have been smug with Mac in the past but I feel that those times were justified (though Dr. Habib disputes this belief). I normally enjoy our repartee, but today it feels somewhat forced, as though Mac almost feels martyred and I'm the vicious enemy she's been asked to tame. Perhaps Nina has something to do with it after all.

Unintended consequences. The term in itself has a broad spectrum of meanings for us both but at this moment in time it relates to her story. My destruction of Shelly on the show last night has led to an unintended consequence that I feel there is no need for me to fix. The fact is: I can't do everything and my treatment of Wexler was exactly what I would have done with any other representative – I cross examined her and she failed. Miserably. I do not feel that she is owed a fucking apology, even if the thought that I had become a bully _did _cross my mind. There is always a price to be paid, and this is ours.

"_You're just chock-full of beans today, aren't you?"_

**_Hey guys! Thank you for reading this chapter, and if you enjoyed it please leave a review or PM me as I love hearing from you! :)  
>I'd like to thank Sueg5123 for reviewing last chapter - it means a lot to me and I really appreciate it. I'd also like to thank mcmacthenewsroom on Tumblr for your comments on the last chapter and everyone on Tumblr who has reblogged  liked the last chapter. _**


	15. News Night with Will McAvoy

"_Will, are you all set?"_

I reply back mockingly, knowing that she'll have a jibe in kind for me. Still, it doesn't feel as easy as it used to – us, teasing one another. I watch the screens go white in front of me, the theme music to my show ringing in my ear, when my phone starts buzzing. Irritated, I pick it up, glancing at the screen in frustration – whoever it is must have some nerve; it's not like everyone I actually care about doesn't know where I am at this time! _Dad_ lights the screen, and suddenly I'm beyond irritated – I'm furious and just a little scared. Pushing those feelings away, I ignore his call, flicking my phone down onto the laptop I keep beside me and face the waiting camera, ready to begin my opening statement. I read off the prompter as normal, running on autopilot as my mind spins through the possible reasons my father could have to call me at this particular time. It's not like _he _doesn't know what I'm doing right now (not that he's ever had anything good to say about it, mind you).

I hear multiple murmurs in my ear but do not react – if Mac needed to tell me something, give me notes, I would have heard her loud and clear. As it is, I think Maggie's there – probably Jim, too – but Mac has said nothing. I continue speaking as normal, knowing that if there's anything I need to say or do, Mac is sure to tell me. Even if we aren't as we used to be, she is still the consummate professional and I her slave for this hour. I fumble on my introduction of Bethany Lee from the Pentagon and Mac jumps on it, only half joking when she pretends to make the same mistake. She can see that I'm flustered, though, so there's no real anger in her voice – more frustration that I messed up slightly. Anger boils inside me as I explain the situation to her – fuck it! I'm loud and clear in the control room and I absolutely do not want anyone else to know my sordid past because my father can't seem to remember when his son is on _National Television _for Christ's sake. Infuriated, I bark out the order to Mac to switch me, fucking furious at how this night's panning out – and it's only eight o'clock. _Jesus. _

"…_Goddamnit I don't want to say this shit in front of a control room full of…"_

"_According to a number of internet sources, men your dad's age have a recovery rate of 93%..."_

I stop her mid-sentence – I can't bear to hear the rest of whatever statistics she has to spout about full recovery. My dad didn't recover. What's worse, I don't know whether I'm relieved that I no longer have his shadow hanging over me or angry at myself that, at this very moment, I can't even summon up the slightest amount of grief at the news. I've known for ten – no, twelve – minutes about his death and I just carried on working. Am I cold? Uncaring? I remain stoic – dispassionate, even – in front of Mac but I worry about what she might think of me. After all, she has a close relationship to her parents and though she understands what I went through with my father, she can never truly _know _what it was like. I worry that she'll think that I can't forgive, and our history together would more than solidify that belief.

My sister answered the phone. That means that, despite all he did to us – all that bastard did to our family – she was there for him. I miss her more than anything right now, knowing that she's probably grieving somewhere. She was the only one who truly tried to get to know our father – to give him a second chance. Before me I can see Mac, pity welling up in her eyes. No, not pity; sympathy. She can't understand what I'm going through right now – what's actually running through my mind – but you can bet that she's going to at least try, to ease my burden. Watching me carefully, she reacts to the voice on her headset and I know that I'm due to be on the air soon. Smiling sadly in acceptance, she takes her leave and heads back to the control room.

Solitude at last. My mind is whirring; gears shifting so quickly and so far beyond my control that I do not register the call to air. I sit in silence, pensive. Then, I snap out of it at Mac's voice – Mac, who can pull me out of the void, always and anytime. Mac.

I deliver my last line to my sisters, begging for their forgiveness and approval.

"_Well, it's just us now…"_

**_Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please leave a review as I appreciate any and all feedback. I'd like to thank Sueg5123 for reviewing the last chapter - it really means a lot to me. From this point, there's only a few episodes left but I do have a couple of extra bits lying around. So, if you'd like to see the extra bits that didn't really fit anywhere, let me know and I'll post them as one chapter at the end of this fic. ^_^_**


	16. One Step Too Many

"_Let it go long."_

A small murmur from my earpiece – that is all I'd heard from Mac during the half-hour in which we had been doing our show. Oddly enough, she hadn't had any notes or comments for me and has barely spoken two words to me these last couple of days. If I weren't so sure that my relationship with Nina had something to do with it, I'd have sworn that Mac looked far more worn out lately than she had when she first came back into my life. If I'm honest, I would like to think that the silence between Mac and I is all Nina's fault because that would mean that I am absolved from all blame. On the other hand, I've started to worry about her – about her health, more than anything. The few glimpses I've caught of her, she seemed pallid, weary and ready to drop at any minute. I wouldn't be surprised if I were the one to find her passed out on the floor this time. I ignored the ringing silence in my earpiece, continuing my interrogation of Dell, the President of the League of Catholic Voters. Internally, I suppress my concern for Mac – at this point in time, she isn't my primary concern – my ratings are.

I sit beside Nina now, listening as she rants on to me that my likeability ratings are down because of the guests that Mac books and the topics that she chooses to inform the electorate. I know what she's getting at, but I can't bring myself to demand that Mac stop the hard work she's been doing so that I can appease a restless audience. For one thing, I'd probably have my ass kicked from here to tomorrow for even suggesting it to her. Honestly, I really, really want to do this show with Mackenzie, I'm just not sure how to without jeopardizing the fragile relationship I've created with my audience. Listening to Nina, I know that what she's saying makes sense logically but is also completely wrong. Or at least, it's wrong from Mac's point of view and she is my EP – so it should be wrong from my point of view too. I don't know.

I'm so fucking confused.

"_I think I'm likeable."_

"…_why didn't you just say I shouldn't worry about the number?!"_

I realise what I've been doing wrong – and how I've done wrong by both Mac and Nina. I've been with Nina to prove to myself that I can do it; that I can be in a relationship that isn't with Mac. All the while, I've been expecting Nina to act like Mac – to counsel me with the same type of strong, unbiased and good advice. Nina gave me advice, but to me, it was the wrong advice. It wasn't what Mac would've said. Mac would've told me to fuck the numbers and do the show that I love to do. Mac would've said _"Forget the fucking numbers, man!" _in that incredibly patronizing yet endearing tone of voice that is very difficult to disobey or betray. But I have betrayed her – every day that I've been with Nina I've betrayed the new friendship we've built. _Fuck._

I think back to what I said in the green room where Nina was waiting for me and I realise that I was somewhat harsh with her. At the same time, I think over how I'm going to mend bridges with Mac, knowing that this time any damage was caused by me and my actions. My hand itches to open my desk drawer – to peek in and see the ring that caused me so much grief – but I know that if I'm to put this all behind me, the ring should go.I storm into my office, only half surprised to find Sloan waiting for me, sitting at my chair. Expecting a lecture, I level half a glare at her. It turns out, however, that Sloan hasn't come to lecture me – she doesn't think that I deserve the humiliation of rehashing my darker moments on air today. No, she immediately begins quoting the other numbers that were revealed by the focus group – my reliability score and how much the audience trusted me. I knew those were high but, as Sloan points out, I didn't care. I didn't care because I wanted them to like, not trust, me. I wanted them to be my friends again.

Soon, Sloan launches into a half-assed talk about 'Goldilocks' planets, and even I am not so dense that I can't figure out what she's aiming for. Of all the planets in all the solar systems, only two were deemed fit for human habitation. Of the two, one was radioactive and the other perfect to host human life. It's not difficult to see the parallels between the planets and my relationships with Nina and Mac. One planet is toxic – deadly even. The other, a perfect fit that is distant but not impossible to reach. Mac is my Goldilocks Planet.

I've been a fucking moron and I don't even know how to begin setting things right. Except that I might have already by dumping Nina, the seemingly perfect yet radioactive entity in my life.

"_Thanks, sis."_

**_Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please leave a review, as I appreciate all feedback. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter: SueG5123, Anne and Rachel2016. For those on Tumblr, I'd like to thank everyone who liked/reblogged the previous chapter - it means a lot to me that you've done so. _**


	17. Red Team III

"_People are celebrating out there."_

Genoa. We've just finished the broadcast and Charlie's made his way out of my office. While the news about Stomtonovitch is irritating, I'm not particularly worried. Witnesses recant all the time – especially when they feel external pressures from those around them - and considering the fact that three-star Generals do not tend to have stupid friends, external pressures were expected. For now though, I'm enjoying the football game on screen and the fact that Mac is finally, really talking to me again. Enough that she would threaten me with death, anyway. Tiredly, I scrub my eyes, watching the play begin. For whatever reason, Mac seems captivated by the two stop-clocks and without much interest I explain why they're there. Her interest seems benign – if a little random – so I explain as well as I can before turning my full attention back to the game. Except, it isn't my full attention – it never is when Mac's in the room. I've missed her.

I know that I should be celebrating with the team out in the newsroom, but I can't bring myself to be sociable. Already we've had pushback from one of our sources – we've had cold feet and a claim that we edited him out of context. This whole story has left me with a bad taste in my mouth and I'm not sure if that's because of the story itself – the use of Sarin on civilians – or because of the possible consequences, not just here, but the world over. Is it possible that, in reporting this story, we've done more harm than good?

My only positive thought at this time – apart from relief that we've finally broadcast this mammoth of a story – is that Mac is no longer hiding anything from me and our relationship has returned to what it was before Cyrus West ever appeared on that awful panel. Almost.

"_You have no idea what you said."_

"_We have to retract Genoa tonight. All of it."_

I still remember the look on her face when she told me – us – that Genoa had to be retracted. We had just caught a new story but instead, we had to retract Genoa and the mess we'd made. I didn't know yet why we had to do it – I let Mac explain that to me later on, but in that instant, I felt my heart well up with sympathy for Mac. She had nurtured this story – sat on and hidden it from me – for almost a year only for it to blow up in her face because of Jerry fucking Dantana. An asshole who wanted to make a name for himself riding on my laurels. I realise now that part of what Mac felt that night was out of her own perverted sense of self-blame; she felt worse about plastering my face on a story that was complete fiction than she did actually airing the damn thing. Ironically, had this happened a year and a half ago I would've been all over this cock up. Now, I'm her biggest supporter. I saw the tears in her eyes that night – the way she trembled with untold sadness and rage. I saw her eyes gloss over with tears and I felt my heart ache. I knew that she was suffering and, not for the first time since her reappearance in my life, I wanted it to stop.

I sat in my interview with , rehashing the events of the subsequent nights after Genoa aired. The funny thing is that, right this second, I don't give a fuck. Pay Dantana off – hold me to my non-compete clause – but don't fire Mac, and for God's sake, don't let her quit. Waiting for Leona has made me realise that I don't care what happens to me anymore – of course, I still love my job and I would do anything to keep it, but only if that meant that Charlie and Mac got to keep theirs too. At the expense of my work, I would allow myself to be blamed if Mac were allowed to continue working here at ACN, where she's home. She doesn't deserve this; all reporters have at least one bad story. It was a mistake – an unfortunate sequence of events that had detrimental consequences.

Unintended consequences.

"_Did she seem mad?"_

**_Hey guys! I hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter and if you did, please leave a review! I'd like to thank SueG5123 and Rachel2016 for reviewing the last chapter - your feedback means a lot to me :) I'd also like to say thanks to anyone over on Tumblr who has liked this story - I really appreciate it! :D Only two chapters left of the main story (and the extra bits, as promised will come in a following chapter)! _**


	18. Election Night, Part I

"_Say what you want to say to me."_

For a beat, she has me stumped. What could she possibly mean by _that?_ Does she want support? Praise? I'm honestly stuck until I see the dangerous glint in her eyes. She is in no mood for platitudes or false joviality. She wants me to be angry – to rage and roar – to blame her as she has come to expect me to. Except that I don't. I don't blame her at all. It's exactly as I said to Miss Halliday not a few minutes ago – it was a good story. Mac chased that story like the brilliant reporter that she is. Mac didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I blame Dantana for doctoring the fucking tapes. I blame mine and Charlie's source for fucking around with us over a petty grudge. The last person I could possibly blame is Mac. She did _nothing _wrong. I sigh inwardly before telling her what I've been thinking; that she looks far too tired to be doing the broadcast tonight. I worry for her and her health – physical and mental – and with the upcoming stress of Election night, I worry for her sanity. She is beautiful – an irrevocable truth of the universe that will never change – but her appearance currently is dishevelled at best and I need her on top of her game tonight more than ever. I need her here, with me.

The conversation shifts slightly, and I wonder for the umpteenth time why Genoa has to dominate our every conversation these days. It's bad enough that everyone else is talking about it – I say we leave it to them and focus on better things. She's hurting – that I can plainly see – but she's also desperately trying to bait me into firing her. She wanted to be put down humanely and, as Charlie pointed out, I'm the only one who can do it now. Observing her closely, she seems almost unreachable, as though she's put up a wall between us that I can't breach. I worry that she's begun to bury herself in all the blame she's taken on for Genoa. Shame wells up inside me as I realise my part in this. For years, I blamed Mac for her every misdeed (when really, there was just the one). I buried her. Now, she's doing it for me with the expectation that I'm going to aid her efforts.

Finally we're at a place that I can understand! Anger and arguments, returning to Mac's one great sin – the root of all of our mutual problems. All this mixed in with the mistaken belief that she is solely responsible for Genoa. My God, she's stubborn. Anger flares up within me as I realise that this is what she has come to expect from me. A long standing grudge and blame. I couldn't forgive her for that, but with Genoa, there's nothing to forgive.

"_I'm sorry I didn't explode for you."_

"_In the old days, didn't they offer you the option of a shot of whisky and a pistol?"_

I can see the cogs turning in her mind as she gears herself up, desperately trying to convince me to fire her. I won't do it. Not out of cruelty, but because she doesn't deserve it – she did nothing wrong. Sitting opposite me, her body language screams hostility – towards me; towards herself. She's closed herself off – blames herself for all that has happened.

The conversation has shifted, and I feel anger blossoming in the pit of my stomach. She thinks I haven't fired her because of my _image_?! Jesus! I refuse to fire her because I think we can weather this storm together like we have others that arose over the last few years. I think we can beat this suit and get back to doing the news right. Together. Fuck. I'm furious that she would even think that I'd consider my _image _in a decision like this. How big of a dick does she think I am?! How could she think that, after all these years, I don't care for her at all? I thought we'd moved past this. But maybe, maybe we haven't. Sickness and pain roil in my stomach and I shut the door before she can finish, closing us in. She begs me – her eyes wide and pleading – to fire her. I can't stand it. She wants me to put her out to pasture and thinks that I haven't because of my fucking _image. _

It always comes back to that one thing, though. She thinks that I blame her – that I could betray her – because she believes that she deserves it. She's come to expect it from me and _that, _more than anything, cuts me deeply. Have I become my father? Am I an emotional abuser and she my self-loathing victim? I feel rage in the pit of my stomach and work to steady my voice. My throat stings so much that my words come out hoarse, tears of anger and anguish threatening to rise. If she wants to give in, then maybe I should let her.

"…_I was a good guy…You're fired, end of the broadcast. Please don't tell anyone."_

**_Hey guys! Thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it ^_^ If you have, please leave a review as I love hearing your feedback. I'd like to thank Rachel2016, Sueg5123 and Anne for their reviews last chapter and continued support - it really means a lot to me! :)_**


	19. Election Night, Part II

"_Are you sure that you're not just a massive bag of douche? 'Cos let me tell you something: it's just plain weird that you were prepared to marry me, that you'd bought a ring, but were unwilling to read any of my emails or answer any of my calls."_

Shit. It's come back to that fucking ring. I should've never pulled that prank – I should've returned the ring as soon as I bought the fucking thing. She's absolutely right, of course. Why, if I was already emotionally prepared to marry her, did I not give her a suitable chance? Why didn't I read any of her messages or answer her calls? Simply put: I wasn't ready to marry her. Sure, I was in love with her and, in my mind, we were headed towards marriage but I wasn't ready to walk down the aisle at that particular stage of my life. I hesitate slightly, stumbling through my admission that the ring was a prank – a practical joke – and I feel her pain radiating from her in waves, just enough to make me feel especially guilty. She honestly thought that the ring was genuine and, for all intents and purposes, it is exactly the type of ring I would've bought her all those years ago. I mean, it really is a perfect match to the description she gave me when we discussed marriage hypothetically rather than practically almost six years ago. Before she ripped my heart out.

The thing is, we'd almost moved past her affair with Brian until everything got dredged up again tonight. I felt as though we'd almost returned to normalcy in our relationship – almost reaching the friendship we'd had when we first started working together. But between my firing her and this awful discussion, I don't think we'll ever really recover what we once had. Maybe it's better this way. Still, it hurts me to see her in such pain – an obvious and visceral pain that claims her delicate features strongly as though she were physically in pain – because of me.. My justification of the prank seems hollow – pointless- even as it tumbles out of my mouth. The look of surprise - of genuine shock – on Mac's face sends a pang of guilt reverberating through me. I did this. I intentionally hurt her and the look on her face is plain – she doesn't want or need to hear this from me. Especially not now after I took the "high road" in our last conversation and fired her. Shit.

I can see the irony of this situation and my God it hurts. It's entirely possible that it actually hurts _more _to be on this side of the conversation because I knowingly hurt Mac – the only person aside from Charlie that I've come to truly rely on and trust. She was never supposed to know. And I just told her.

"_I'm sorry."_

"_I'm right here!"_

Breathless with the excitement from my realisation (and running around the studio looking for Mac) relief floods my body at the sound of her voice. Whipping around to face her, I motion for her to wait for me, attempting to plan out what I'm going to say to her. What I _need _to say to her. Pulling Mac away from the News Desk, I take her by the hand and tug her into a corner, launching into a long and rambling story about a boy who shreds paper. I don't know! I just want to keep her attention long enough to propose to her!

She owns me. I love her so completely and I've been such an idiot that I didn't even realise it until now. I've missed her so, so much. Fumbling with the turquoise box in my coat pocket, I attempt to open it – to reveal the ring that I lied about a few hours ago. I kept the ring. I kept it because I love her – I've always loved her – and I think I knew it deep down. Stumbling slightly over my words – damnit, this is why I need preparation time! – I tell her everything that I feel for her. I just. Fuck! Why can't I do this smoothly? Why can't I speak when I'm trying so desperately to apologize, admit my love and _somehow _propose? Her face looms in front of mine, baffled by my apparent change of attitude and almost _concerned _that I might have completely lost it. She breaks into my babbling, demanding to know what the fuck is happening right now. I couldn't have held back any longer, anyway.

"No…I love you and I'm going to go back to that and will you marry me? And let me just say I think you should. I think you should say yes. But no matter what you say, there's no chance I'm ever going to hurt you again and no matter what you say I'm going to be in love with you for the rest of my life. There's no way out of that, that's just a physical law of the universe. You own me, no matter what you say, I will never -"

"Yes."

Oh thank God! She said it – she said yes! For a moment, I hesitate, I wait to see if I've misheard – if she wants to change her mind. But, she doesn't and I haven't and, for the first time in months, everything's _good. _I can hear how pathetic I sound, asking her if she really meant what she said. I hear it and I don't care. Her face breaks into the most amazing smile as she snorts slightly, giggling at my disbelief. Relief floods by body and I'm overwhelmed. My revelation, my love for her, everything just crashes together within me, suppressed only by the urgent need I so suddenly feel to kiss her.

I stumble as I reach for her, but I will no longer hesitate when it comes to _us. _The feel of her against me is enough – I am finally whole again.

She owns me – for longer than a few hours a night – for life.

She owns me, and I'm completely okay with it.

"…_Everyone, uh, just listen up for a second, 'cos this'll just take a second … More importantly, I would like to introduce the future Mrs. Mackenzie Morgan McHale McA- that's not gonna work."_

**_Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did, please leave a review! Forgive the long quote in the middle of the second half - I couldn't resist using Will's adorable proposal ^_^ Thanks to fanficfanuk, mcmacthenewsroom, Sueg5123 and Rachel2016 for reviewing last chapter - I really appreciate it! This is the final canon chapter - the next will be the extra bits that didn't quite fit the format I've tried to maintain. Thanks for reading! :)_**


	20. Extras

_**Inspired by this particular quote in the Season 2 finale, these are the 'extras' that I promised a while back (explanation for why they've taken so long will be in the final A/N):**_

"…_The world doesn't have to see a list of every embarrassing thing that has happened here in the last fourteen months…"_

**We Just Decided To**

"_You've got my contract, but the thing you have to know is that between eight and nine o'clock you are completely mine. For an hour, five times a week, I own you; but in my case, it's for your own good and the good of us all. Say 'I understand' so I can get these guys a sound level."_

Who the fuck does she think she is, striding into _my _newsroom and telling me that she _owns _me?! Coldly, I tell her that I don't see that arrangement working and I am somewhat smug that I seem to have flustered her usually-unflappable EP persona (the one she uses when she's producing and at no other time). I am allowed to be smug for as little as three minutes. That's when she pulls one of the dirtiest tricks I've ever seen her produce, always knowing which of my buttons to push. Just like this morning. I hear her ask for the graphics producer and, for the briefest moments, think that she's allowed me victory. That is, until I see my preview screen, flashing boldly and proudly, emblazoned with the words:

Vertigo Medicine with Will McAvoy

Sonovabitch! Hasn't she done enough damage already? Even though it wasn't her in the audience, she was there to me – she produced that reaction. Fuck me. I attempt to talk her down without giving in – to negotiate without impugning my integrity. But, as usual, she wins this round. I air my concerns about the image being uploaded to YouTube (which she, of course, coyly and snarkily responds to) and she refuses to have a rational conversation, leaving me no choice but to cave.

"_I understand."_

"_Nothing on the prompter is where this man eats."_

It should speak volumes to Will that I still have this much faith in him, despite watching him pull a fucking Leno for the past three years. If he were actually listening, that is. I watch Will with awe – as I always have – and enjoy watching the news presented by _this _Will, the one that I get to produce. My Billy. When he takes my first instruction, I know that I still have his respect as his EP. Producing the news with Will is what I live for. Will's back on the stand – the star prosecutor – cross-examining his guests rather than interviewing them and revelling in the fast paced nature of this rapidly evolving, _massive _story.

"_I'm Will McAvoy, good night."_

**News Night 2.0**

"_Just to be clear, you want me to tell some people but not everyone?"_

Infuriating woman! Yes, I understand that I am being somewhat forceful and repetitive, but I do find her incredibly difficult to predict, even after all these years. I have no idea what she has or hasn't said to Jim, and I understand that the bond between embeds is one of deep mutual trust, but I don't want our shared past to become this week's most shared story amongst the staff. So, yes, I am going to hound her about it. Despite my insistence, however, I am already half-aware that what I'm saying is pointless -the tremulous look of fear in Mac's eyes tells me that much. As it should. Our shared past is a past and not the present because of her, and she would do well to remember that.

"_Let's go."_

"_One more thing: we lost Jan Brewer and had to replace her with a crazy professor at a website and a member of a citizen's militia and a former second-runner up in the Miss USA pageant. It's going to be fine, you'll carry them, they'll barely have to speak. Now you've shut down, right?"_

Holy shit. I leave the Newsroom for a few hours and come back to fucking chaos. Tonight's show has been compromised by God-only-knows which one of my Junior staffer's fuck up, Mac copied 46-odd reporters in on something I've successfully kept a lid on for three years and Reese is being his usual asshole self. Total fucking chaos. Shock forces me into silence as I contemplate how this day could possibly get any worse. I glare at Mac, her face contorting into that nervous self-deprecating expression I have become accustomed to.

I honestly thought that things were getting better between us. Slowly, at least.

"_Who fucked up?"_

**The Blackout, Part II: The Mock Debate**

"_Get out."_

I might not be Mac's greatest fan personally (that's still a work in progress) but I can appreciate the integrity and professionalism she brings to every broadcast. More importantly, I can register the fact that she makes me a better anchor – pushes me to inform an unwilling electorate of the things that they _need _to know, even if they don't want to hear it. I need her, and I won't do this debate without her. Especially not when this debate was _our _baby. No fucking way. I may not show Mac this daily, but I will _always _stand by her professionally.

"_When Don says 'Eat Me' that's usually the end of the conversation."_

"_We're throwing out the rundown and leading with the debt ceiling!"_

Ecstasy floods my body at the thought of finally doing the news _right _again. I can almost feel my heart expanding with the rapture of joy that fills me at the sight of Will, confident but unsure. My Billy, back again.

He defended me – rejected the new debate format because that idiot insulted me. He…cares. I stop for a moment and watch Will from across the flurry of movement in the Newsroom – I remember the good times we had together. Catching sight of the spectre that is Brian, I compare the two silently. Will was always the better man, I was just too thick to see it.

I am proud of my staff. I am proud of our baby – Newsnight, 2.0. I am proud to be Will's EP.

"_Gather ye rosebuds while ye may…Then be not coy, but use your time and while you may go marry, for having lost but once your prime, you may forever tarry."_

**The Greater Fool**

"_Because true love always wins?"_

It's almost endearing how naïve Mac can still be after all these years. "True love always wins" my _ass._ I reply sardonically, regarding her closely as I debate internally whether or not I should admit to her what happened at Northwestern – not the ridiculous Vertigo Medicine excuse that made the rounds after that particular debacle. My mouth starts to move before I've even actually decided, and I know in my heart of hearts that had I actually allowed myself to consider it, I probably wouldn't have said anything at all. So I tell her. I attempt to explain everything – the hallucination brought on by the woman sitting in the audience who looked like her, the bright lights… What I omit is how much I'd been missing her.

But perhaps she already knows that by now.

Amid my explanation, she starts shuffling papers in her folio, rooting around for _something_. She looks up at me every so often, as if assuring me that she's still listening. Then, she shows them to me. The two damned signs that changed _everything._

"IT'S NOT.

BUT IT CAN BE."

I stop, surprised and feeling slightly foolish. It had been her all along?! Jesus. That's just like her, really. Still, I can't say that she's entirely wrong. Something about seeing her did spur me on – forced me to give the answer that had been on my mind throughout the entire interview. Her presence allowed me to voice what I hadn't been able to alone. She brings out the best and worst in me. She produces.

"_Why the f-uck didn't you tell me?!...It was you!"_

**Willie Pete**

"_This was a colossal waste of time, so I'm going to try meeting with graphics."_

I glare half-heartedly at the staff once more to leave a lingering impression before getting up to follow Mac, needing to catch her before she becomes too busy. I feel quite guilty about raging at her this morning, and after talking to Nina, I feel especially guilty that I could only ever really tell her how I feel about her when I was high as a fucking kite. Felt. How I felt about her. I don't know. Nina and I, we had chemistry this morning. For the first time in a _long _time I felt attracted – truly, physically attracted – to someone other than Mac. I don't know where this might go, but maybe I can forget Mac once and for all.

"_That's okay. Anyway…"_

_**Hey guys! Thanks for sticking with this story for so long and I'd like to thank Rachel2015 and Sueg5123 for reviewing last chapter and everyone else who has reviewed throughout the entire fic – it means a lot to me! **_

_**I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update – I've had a lot going on in my personal life (moving country to go to Uni, mostly) that's prevented me from writing/editing. As I hand-write everything, I also had to unpack and gather the extra bits that I had on paper before typing them up! **_

_**This is the final chapter, so I'd just like to end by thanking everyone for their continued support,**_

_**CMEmLovr :)**_


	21. Boston

"_Nine."_

Nine bridesmaids? What the fuck does she think this is; an extended production of _Seven Brides for Seven Brothers_? Jesus! I mean, I love the woman, but isn't _nine _a bit excessive? I realise she's been waiting a large part of her adult life for this moment, but I can't think of nine men that I would want to be my groomsmen and I'm starting to think that this is just some unwritten female rule; the number of bridesmaids must outnumber that of groomsmen. Or this is some sort of ritual test to make sure that the groom is fully prepared to handle all of the bride's friends after marriage. Either way, I don't see why Charlie can't just fetch the women one-by-one and ferry them down the aisle – he's the only man I truly want by my side on this occasion anyway.

Shock flits across Mac's face and I see her attention is diverted. I've been stuck on the wedding details, so I'm slow to catch on until I see her face paling at the sight of whatever has just occurred onscreen. Beside me, Mac is furiously dialling the control-room extension from my phone, her face pinched with a look of concentration that I'm very familiar with; we're about to see some real news, real soon. _Shit._

Rushing into the Newsroom, Mac immediately begins co-ordinating with the staff, already scrambling to piece together what's going on in Boston. I scan the monitors for any more information, listening to Mac's exchanges with the staff as I do. Onscreen, Neal points out an "energy wave" that knocks a runner off his feet, and suddenly Kenzie's gone; there's a story to report. Bridesmaids, dresses and my (stunning) lack of friends to act as groomsmen can wait – we've got an explosion to cover.

"_Jenna!"_

"_No people have been around for billions of years."_

Sitting like this, eating dinner and just _being _together is the whole reason I asked Kenzie to marry me in the first place. I missed this. Sure, I'd prefer it if we had actual chairs instead of upturned pails (and a table wouldn't go amiss either), but I love this. Watching the news and eating greasy Chinese with Mac, the promise of a night together before us.

As soon as I make my Bible comment, I see Mac's nose crinkle, as it does when she giggles out of surprise rather than nervousness. Smiling lightly, I enjoy the way the soft lighting from the centre candles emphasises the shadows in her laugh. She's mine now, even if it means that I have to give up the foods I most enjoy. She's worth it. Laughing internally, I enjoy that I can still surprise her with an audacious comment even though we've known each other for so long.

Conversation settles away from MSG, and I remark optimistically about the state of our show. A solid B+ for the second day of reporting: not bad, coming from Charlie. As usual, Mac tries to outshine me by mentioning some higher-text that she probably read _for fun _at Cambridge – Euripides- and suddenly she's making an allegory out of our show in the same way that she did before our first broadcast together. Seeing the way she analyses everything – creates parallel upon parallel of our situation and the text she's referencing reminds me of why I fell in love with her to begin with. Her intelligence. I fell in love, first and foremost, with her intelligence and wit. The rest sort of just followed.

Mac's ringtone breaks our discussion as Maggie calls to check in. I sit silently as Mac weighs in on Maggie's decision to pursue an independent story, enamoured by the fact that despite all the crap Maggie dealt with last year, Mac is still willing to put her on a reasonable leash and allow her to run with this story (as far as her leash allows). At heart, Kenzie is not only a good reporter, but a good leader. Waiting until her conversation is over, Mac turns back to me with a comment about Euripides again, and this time I'm ready with a snarky comment (all in good fun, of course) on hand:

"_I completely understood the story the first time."_

**_Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please leave a review! I decided that since Season 3 is now over (and there was so much to explore from the Will/Mac angle) I'd like to update It's Quixotic? with Season 3's episodes :) I hope you'll enjoy reading them :D_**


	22. Run

"_My position hasn't softened at all."_

Thank God! She's not going to allow Neal to run the damn story and we can send Miss Halliday back home and away from _me. _I'm aware she shares some sort of fatalistic humour with Don, but for the life of me I can't seem to see her as more than the (necessary) pain in the ass that made the _other _pain (Dantana, that is) go away. She's a fucking nightmare at this point – we've brought her in to help and she's done nothing but treat both Neal and I with condescension. I mean, _fuck. _

Oh shit. Mac's actually going through with this. She's actually encouraging Neal to run the damn thing despite all the risks for _journalistic integrity. _Jesus Christ! I love her, but the woman can be so ridiculously hard headed sometimes. I mean, I understand where she's coming from, and I love that she wants to report the news – real news – as it happened. I also understand that getting this right would be a massive redemption from Genoa: getting this right could mean getting ACN back on its feet ratings-wise. We could stop the ridiculous meetings with potential buyers, defend our news network and get on with, well, our mission. At the same time, Neal could go to jail, and I'm not prepared to let that happen. He's one of our own – one of the best, now – and nothing can happen to him while my face is still the face of ACN.

I'd thought that Mac and I were on the same page. I thought that she wanted to protect Neal as much as I did. But Mac's always been about reporting the story regardless of risk (provided, of course, that the reporter is willing to face those risks themselves). Mac's always had a bit more bravery than I have, even when bravery can (and has, previously) escalate into stupidity.

Our exchange is rapid, and I realise that my breath is wasted with every insistence: Mac has decided and she won't be deterred unless Neal himself says he'd rather not do the story. And I'll be damned if Neal does that.

"_How often are you sleeping when I'm talking to you at night?"_

"_We are three exits past that on the highway!"_

Despite Mac's insistence that the story be covered, I can tell that she's still worried for Neal and his safety. I observe her discussion with Don and Charlie quietly, watching Neal's face closely as I listen to the former three batting around the pros and cons of this story. He seems satisfied. Quietly, cockily satisfied.

Then, it hits me. He's already called BCD on our behalf, and the little fucker probably left his name with them, too.

Signalling him quietly, I feel dread in the pit of my stomach, but I can also applaud him for the courage it took to do this without involving any other members of Newsnight. Damn he's grown since we first hired him. Leading him towards the studio, I realise that Neal has no qualms about going to prison – on a contempt charge or on a treason charge. It doesn't matter – he's as committed to doing the news well as Mac is. And that is the important part. _That _is why I want to help him. Stopping at Jenna's desk, I give her murmured instructions and by God if she doesn't catch on quickly that she's to keep this quiet.

Walking into the studio, I start my conversation with Neal quietly, proud of how much he's progressed. I realise that I'm proud of what Mac's done for all of us. She's turned my team of junior staffers into real reporters, able to do the news to the degree of excellence that _she _demands. And Neal is just one of the staffers she's nurtured.

"_I sure know it now."_

_**Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter, and please let me know if you enjoyed it :) I'd like to thank Sueg5123 and Rachel2016 for consistently reviewing - your feedback means a lot to me! I'd also like to thank Guest, weB3now and everyone on tumblr who liked/reblogged this.  
><strong>__**Unfortunately, with my current workload, updates will likely be quite sporadic, but I hope you'll bear with me and enjoy the chapters as they're published :)**_


	23. Main Justice

"_This is a fucking outrage, Molly!"_

Oh Jesus, she's mad. I can't blame her, but it would help all of our situations if she and the rest of the staffers would tone it down a bit. Yes, we're being raided, and yes, it is grossly unjust that this is happening because of Neal when he isn't even here. I mean, come on, which self-respecting computer genius leaves government-sensitive information on hardware that can be easily seized by the government? Sighing, I watch the chaos around me, interrupting the fight between Mac and Molly once or twice for the sake of appearing cooperative. After all, someone has to do it.

At Molly's comment about kissing sources I feel rage spike within me, but tamp it down for the sake of appearances. If what I have planned is to work, I need to appear cooperative. That's not to say I don't feel like decking Molly in the mouth (Mac's best friend or otherwise), but I restrain myself for all of our sakes. Don's remark about wire taps gets me thinking: while they don't have a warrant for our phones, they do have one for our computers and, by extension, access to our web history. Shit.

The minute Charlie picks up the phone, I know my plan's getting shot to hell. Knowing Charlie, he's bluffing, and knowing Mac, she's well aware. Which is why _their _plan goes so smoothly, with a fake broadcast set up in _minutes. _Jesus Christ on a bicycle; am I going to have a hard time _cooperating_ with the FBI now. Sighing with poorly contained frustration, I watch as my seamless team of reporters set up the best-fake news shot I've ever seen. I mean, it helps that they have a control room at their disposal (not that most of them actually know what to do with it, mind you), but they've literally fabricated a broadcast _like that. _

The FBI guys are leaving, and from my vantage point I can see that Ms. Halliday is _very _upset – and rightly so. In front of her, Molly and Rodger-with-a-d-Hutchinson sit confidently as they know (as well as we do) that they weren't in the wrong on this one.

"_Seems like lately a lot of people have been playing fast and loose with the law."_

"_Maybe he's…"_

An asshat? Yeah, he is. Barry What's-his-face just storms into the room like some sort of higher power, when in reality, he's just a fucking attorney. Sure, he works for the federal government, but that doesn't give him the right to use these ridiculous power plays with us. Especially when he's fully aware that I was a prosecutor in my time – I know these pathetic tricks. Hell, I probably wrote the book on some of 'em.

His appearance in the room has cemented my already-present belief that I'm not to cooperate with him. With anyone from the FBI, actually. But especially not with this prick. Two minutes into the room and he's already insulted Mac – already belittled her intelligence. That alone makes me want to end this whole truce business right now. If he thinks that he's going to steamroll over my fiancé and the man I respect more than I ever did my father to ensure my compliance, he has another fucking thing coming.

The use of a Nebraskan expression doesn't really throw me – Barry has the same mean look that most of the drunkards in the farms around ours had in their eyes. That, and he probably did his fucking homework. I mean, they had to have told him how downright-_docile _I was during the raid. A smart attorney would've done their homework on the one person likely to cooperate. And yet, he storms in like a bully, possibly knowing of my past with mean men like himself. Growling, I listen as he attempts to cajole and irritate us into admission of the source's name. All while threatening Neal, steamrolling over Ms. Halliday whose presence I am grateful for, possibly for the first time in my life. He's a hapless bully whose attitude needs a serious, Nebraska-style _readjustment. _

I answer his questions as honestly as possible without implicating Neal or myself. But most importantly, I reveal nothing about the source, because that's what I'm here to do. Protect Neal by protecting his source. Fuck this dickhead sitting at the other end of the table. Screw what he _thinks, _because he doesn't know squat. About me, my values or the plan that I created to ensnare him in _exactly _this situation. Letting him know exactly what's been on my mind this entire interview, I let him have it. He's an irritating douchebag, and whatever he thinks he can pull on me, he won't arrest someone whose face is on television every night.

So basically, he can go fuck himself.

"_You bungled this, and I can't help you anymore."_

**_Hey guys! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please leave a review! I'd like to thank SueG5123 and Rachel2016 for reviewing the last chapter - I really appreciate the feedback! _**


	24. Contempt

"_If he sentences you, where do you go?"_

Despite having just been woken up with less grace than a three-year old could have managed, I can't say that I'm upset about it. Not when I see the genuine look of concern shadowing Mac's usually somewhat mischievous expression. Sighing quietly, I flip onto my back, facing Mac to reassure her that I'm not going anywhere. I can't say that with any certainty, but I'd prefer to make Mac feel as secure as possible. Her voice rises in volume and pitch as our discussion continues, while I try to keep my voice as low and reassuring as possible. Eventually, at her insistence that _"that's a real jail" _I point out that she's been shot at and stabbed – two situations that vastly outstrip the danger in the possibility of my going to jail.

As the phone begins to ring, I realise the absurdity of our current situation: we're lying on a fucking mattress, with no walls, electricity or proper furniture. I'd say a jail cell is probably better furnished, though I keep that observation to myself, mumbling instead about needing somewhere to put my phone. I straddle Mac in an attempt to hurtle over her to find my phone, and bless her if she doesn't flatten out onto the mattress as she tries to help me. I'd laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation if it weren't one-thirty in the fucking morning and my phone wasn't going off loudly and obnoxiously. There are so many more _enjoyable _things I could be doing at this time of night. Like sleeping. Or_, sleeping with_ my fiancé.

Raising the phone that I've (finally!) found to my ear, I hear Mac in the background, interrogating me about who's on the other end. It's endearing and yet completely irritating the way she does this _every time _I get a phone call.

"_Hang on."_

"_Remember the seven weeks I spent picking invitations?"_

She flips her phone screen so that I can see it, a simple invitation stating the barest minimum of details. The very thing I'd begged for, for _seven _weeks! Mac's face lights up in the brightest of smiles, and the realisation dawns on me – the truth that I've known all along, really. I've always wanted to marry Mac, and none of the details really matter. We've been through hell together and apart, and we've almost certainly got some tough times ahead of us, but for now – in less than three hours' time, in fact, we're getting married.

A dopey grin lights my own features as I direct the men that would've been my groomsmen – we have a wedding to set up! Laughing giddily, I set about constructing this thrown-together wedding with my best men, secure in the knowledge that, really, the details don't matter anyway. The only thing that matters is that Mac and I will be married. Forget the reason why she wanted to move the wedding up in the first place – I'm aware that Mac is scared for me, that she wants to show me her loyalty in the same way that I've fought to show her mine in the newsroom. I'm just glad that this is finally happening for us.

I get to the church in time to ask Phil for a favour – to marry Mac and me today, or rather, in a few hours. This is the only detail that I want – and I want it for Mac. She believes, and that means more to me than anything else. Marrying me without doing so in front of the God she believes in would negate everything that I've wanted for us – I want to do right by her within the parameters of her unbelievably high (and in this case, somewhat irrational, though I don't point it out) standards. I want her to be happy, because her happiness is paramount to mine.

"_I do."_

**_Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter, and if you enjoyed it, please leave a review! Thanks to SueG5123, Rachel2016 and Guest for your reviews last chapter - it means a lot to me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_**


	25. Oh Shenandoah

"_She's a knockout."_

Man, he's really grinding my gears. This guy's a jackass, and I don't appreciate the way he's looking at Mac. Not because she's mine (though I guess that's part of it) but because she doesn't deserve to be looked at or talked about in such an undignified manner. Mac can kick my ass intellectually – and probably physically – any day of the week. And seeing as how she can do that to me – and I've got four inches on my new cell-mate – she'd have no problem conquering _him_. Idiot savant, if there ever was one.

I glance briefly at the picture of Mac and me on our wedding day – I can't believe that it was only a few short months ago. God I miss her. I miss Mac like I'd miss a severed limb. She's as much a part of me as any other _actual _part of me, and the separation has been agonising. Glaring back at my roommate, I see that he's moved on to commenting about my colleagues, and I want to punch his face in when he starts in on my being here _voluntarily. _For fuck's sake – I thought this sentence was supposed to be coercive, not _punitive._

He keeps talking, despite the fact that I've made it clear that I just want to read my book in peace. Gritting my teeth, I try to remain civil with him, ignoring the strongest urge to knock him out (if only for the silence). And now I know why I hate this sack of shit so much – his attitude reminds me of my father's. In fact, his whole fucking demeanour and the fact that he's in here with me for beating his wife set me on edge. What the fuck did I do to get landed with him for however long I've got left? I mean, I realise that I was purposely bull-headed with the judge and Lasenthal, but that's only because they had to have known that I wasn't going to give up the source. And yet they went through the whole song and dance of trying to get me to reveal their name _anyway. _

And now he's offering to give up the source for me as a way of getting his sorry ass out of jail (probably to go back to smacking down his wife for getting him put away in the first place). I've been calm, and God knows I've been patient with him, but enough is enough. I'm tired of dealing with him in a civilised manner: I resort to sarcasm, my best and only defence. I fucking hate guys like him anyway – guys who don't have the guts to face their own demons, so they take it out on their wives and kids instead. I hate bullies, iron-willed asshats like my father who beat me, my sisters and my mother into submission until I was strong enough to give it back to him. I hate my new cell-mate.

God I miss Mac.

"_It's a hell of a plan."_

"_You miss your wife?"_

Here we go again. I don't know what his fixation with Mac is, but it's driving me absolutely insane. Of course I miss Mac – it's the most asinine question I've been asked since coming here.

A trophy wife? What the actual fuck?

Mac is the most intelligent woman I know – second to none. I fell in love with her brain, the first time, the rest of her came later. The fact that this moron would accuse Mac of being anything less than an absolute-fucking-genius is an outrage and frankly insulting. And now he's mocking me for answering him seriously. Fucking hell, I might just ask to transfer cells.

And now I'm a prick. And a shithead. Because I don't feel inferior because my wife is so much smarter than I am. She is the most beautiful and intelligent woman I know, and her mission to civilise is the whole reason I'm in here. She taught me to be a good reporter again – she taught me that you might as well do the news well or not do it at all. I'm in here because I want to do right by her in every way possible – that's why I married her, and that's why I'm here, behaving as only the mad old man in Don Quixote could.

Accusing me of being elitist is fairly accurate. He's right, I've prided myself on becoming the news elite, and I don't give a flying fuck what this shit-kicker thinks about it. Yeah, I look down on him. Not because of where he's come from, or even his political views. I look down on him because he's a wife-beating sonovabitch who got his ass thrown in jail because he's threatened by his own wife. He belongs in the gutter because he is a hapless bully, whose life is worth less than that of any of the other criminals in this prison.

"_Down is where some people belong."_

"_Charlie had a heart attack a few hours ago. He died."_

I finally have Mac back in my arms, but all I feel like doing is screaming – lashing out in rage and grief. My father's phantom became my cell-mate during my incarceration – my actual father lies dead and I wasn't even there to say goodbye; just like the first time. My heart wrenches at the sound of the tremor in her voice, and I want to gather Mac back up into my arms – to comfort and soothe her now that I'm finally able to. Except that I'm not, because my own grief is so consuming that all I can think about is how I didn't get the chance to thank Charlie for everything he'd done for us. I don't think I would've ever given Mac a second chance if it hadn't been for Charlie – hell, I know I wouldn't have. Charlie was the only real father I've ever had, and I'm fairly certain he knew it in the first real conversation we had, during the 9/11 broadcast. I shudder violently, glad that Mac is here to keep me sane – to keep me whole. But I can't respond to what she's said. I can only look at her dumbly as I feel my world crashing down, her eyes on mine my only constant.

_**Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! I'd like to thank SueG5123 and Rachel2016 for the reviewing the last chapter - I really appreciate it :). If you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review!**_


	26. What Kind of Day Has it Been

"_That was my doctor on the phone with the results of a blood test."_

The realisation floors me. She's… I mean, I'm going to be – fuck. Happiness, pride and ecstasy flood every inch of me, but I can't help the niggling of guilt that strikes when I remember that I'm at a funeral – my pseudo-father's funeral. But shit, I mean, I'm pretty sure he'd be happy for me. Slowly the joy I feel subsides, and memories of what life had been like without Mac hit me - remembrance of what life with Charlie trying to push me the way Mac has succeeded – and I'm paralysed with the realisation that that sneaky bastard had intended for this (or maybe, not precisely _this) _to happen all along. My God do I miss him.

I covered the weather for _five whole minutes. _I treated Maggie and Neal like shit. Jesus, Don was right to hate me before Mac came back. I kind of hate me. I was on TV, but – God! I didn't even know Maggie's name! Maggie, my one true supporter at that time, she remained loyal to me the way none of my other staffers did. And Charlie, he was always there – he knew that I was capable of more and he held out the hope that I would do it, eventually. Charlie was just waiting for something (or someone) to kick me into gear again. I remember the chagrined way he'd pointed out to me that telling journalism students that "weather rates" would get me nowhere. Irritated, I'd reminded him that I had to care about the numbers because he wouldn't – I was Reese's lapdog at the time, before he and Mac had charged in with their mission to civilise. I remember thinking that Northwestern would be no different from any of the other panels I'd done. I was so damn wrong, and he knew it, because he'd already started trying to get Mac back onto the show, even if he hadn't met her yet. He knew that, with her, I'd be capable of a better show than I'd presented in the last three years. He had faith in me that I myself had lost.

He knew that I hadn't reached Memphis, yet.

"Being a father lives up to the hype."

That's what he'd said to me, hoping that someday I'd be able to realise it for myself. He'd looked me dead in the eye, and for just one second, I could swear that he was trying to negate the wrongs my father had done unto me. That he was trying to tell me that despite all the shit my father put me through, being a father in itself is a cause for joy.

As usual, Charlie Skinner was dead right.

Outside the church I grill Mac, desperately needing assurance that this is going to be okay – that I'm going to be okay as a father. Instead, she teases me as usual, which, oddly enough, does put me at ease.

We have each other.

We can do this together.

"_I can't believe he's not here for this."_

"_What are you doing?"_

Trying to contain the overwhelming mess of emotions that's threatening to overtake my body. Staring at the bedroom of a little boy and wondering whether or not I will be half the father Charlie's been to me and his kids. There's so much that I wanted to say to him, so much that I wish I could've done before he passed – to make him proud, to make him happy. Charlie was, in a very real sense, my father as well as my best friend. He taught me so much, about life – the news – family. He brought together my ragtag family of colleagues, and he brought Mac to me when I thought I'd lost her for good. And he did it all without any expectation of thanks, just as a doting father would. Hopes and dreams of myself as a father are tied in a bittersweet way to my memories of Charlie and my sadness at his passing. He lived a good life, and he gave as good as he got in every arena, regardless of whether or not the person he faced was ready to take it. He believed, he was optimistic, and he was endlessly stubborn. I just can't figure out why I can't bring myself to speak about him to the rest of the funeral party.

Back outside, I spot Charlie's youngest grandchild sitting alone on a bench, his little face turned down to the wake. My heart pangs for him, and I walk over to him slowly, wanting to comfort him as best I can. We both lost someone we cared deeply about. The kid's frank, and I like that about him. Someday, he's probably going to be just as sarcastic as his grandfather. For now, though, he's got a cute little face that isn't afraid to tell the truth. Taking his hand, he leads me to the garage where his older brother's strumming on a bass, playing around with it more than actually _playing _it. Just like his grandfather said: the kid's got a knack. His eyes are downcast, unlike the other times I've met him. This one looks more like Charlie than his brother – even has the same leanness in his features.

My God, I miss him.

I think the fact that I wasn't there – that I missed my chance to say goodbye to him – is the reason that I can't find the words to verbalise how much I miss my best friend. I forwent my right to speak about Charlie when I missed the chance to support him in his last hours. I smile sadly, picking up the guitar as I fire a quip at Charlie's eldest grandchild while strumming absentmindedly until I find the right chord.

Until I find Memphis.

"_I know your parents' divorce has been tough – I know you talked to your grandfather about it a lot. I'd be good at that too – or if you just want to play music…"_

"_Will, by any chance, did you tell anyone about the pregnancy?"_

Oh shit. Tamara, Tess and Kendra figured it out, so I guess most of the staffers know by now. Shiit. And now Pruitt wants a word. Fuck. If I've gotten Mac into hot water because of our baby…

He starts out by telling me that he's sorry for my loss – I guess that's a good start, considering the open animosity he held for Charlie and the continued irritation he harbours towards my wife. Then he starts telling me about his "woman" problem, and I'm not quite sure how I figure into this until he tells me that he wants to promote Mac – thereby relieving me of my best EP. Now, I understand why he'd want to square it with me – I mean, she's my EP, and I've never worked better than under her direction. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to promote her to head of the News Division and is looking for some opposition from me. But I still don't particularly understand why he's telling _me _this, instead of _her. _After all, he is promoting _her, _not _me. _ I mean, he'll have no opposition from me - Mac is the perfect one for the job, and I can't wait to tell her. In public, of course, since she surprised me with the baby news and then continued to tease me about my overreaction. But mostly, I've finally figured out what I want to say about Charlie, and it has a lot to do with what he's done for me and Mac.

My God, do I miss him.

"_Charlie Skinner was crazy. He identified with Don Quixote, an old man with dementia who thought he could save the world from an epidemic of incivility simply by acting like a knight. His religion was decency, and he spent a lifetime fighting its enemies. I wish he could be here to learn the name of his successor, like I just did."_

_**Hey guys! Thanks for waiting so patiently for the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading this fic! I'd like to thank everyone who has eve reviewed, but most especially SueG5123 and Rachel2016 for continuously reviewing, as well as Guest for reviewing the last chapter - it means so much to me! **_

_**I hope you've all enjoyed this final instalment, and if you have: please leave a review! :)**_

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